Jobs
by Cookie Pixie
Summary: [SD3] When you're done saving the world from cataclysmic destruction...well, you're out of a job now, aren't you. COMPLETE.
1. Kevin

  
  
Right! I'm _ba-a-ack!_  
This series will start with Kevin, who is the worst character I know. Actually, let me rephrase that - I know him the least, hence he is the worst character I know _about_. I'm struggling with his grammar, and I don't know too much about his personality, so this chapter will be relatively short.  
  
**Standard disclaimer**: Squaresoft's 'Seiken Densetsu 3' belongs to...well, not me. Don't own them, don't make money off them. 

* * *

"Ah, come in!"  
  
"Hello."  
  
They shook hands. "I'm Stan, your personal advisor. It's my job to find you the job you need."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Now, what's your name?"  
  
"Me named Kevin."  
  
"Er, Kevin, is English your first language?"  
  
"English not so good. Me speak Beast language better."  
  
"Oh, so you're bilingual!"  
  
"By...ling..."  
  
There was the sound of a hand slapping something. "Never mind. By the way, what's you're last name?"  
  
"Uh...last name?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, your family name?"  
  
"Family? ... Kevin family is only Beast King."  
  
"You're _royalty?!_"  
  
Someone shifted uneasily in his seat. "Uh, maybe. What else Stan need know?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, I shouldn't pry. Too much, anyway. So do you have any skills, any special abilities that will make you stand out from the crowd?"  
  
A silence. Finally: "Kevin like dogs and wolves a lot. Me good with them."  
  
"Ah! Do you train them? Do you have some sort of background as a breeder?"  
  
"No...Kevin one friend wolf pup, but Kevin kill him."  
  
The other man winced. "We'll...leave that part out. Anything else? Anything special, original, makes you unique..."  
  
"Kevin part Beastman."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Kevina can do this!"  
  
A glow filled the room, accompanied with howling. Then something whistled through the air, ramming into another object that was presumably large and solid. There was the sound of breaking wood and smashing glass, but strangely enough, no screaming. It all ended after a minute, where another light like the first glowed, then faded.  
  
"Kevin no like doing this. Me hate fighting. You all right?"  
  
A weak and whimpery, "Ye-e-es..."  
  
"So Stan find Kevin job?"  
  
"Er...give me a minute...yes, I believe I could find you a suitable position!"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"With your skills, I believe that you could make an excellent bodyguard for the United Nations."  
  
"Unite...who?"  
  
"They're an organization devoted to world peace."  
  
"Me like that."  
  
"Your, uh, fighting skills would make you an excellent bodyguard. You've also got some biligualism in you, although we're going to have to work on your English, so you could double as a translator for any...Beastman delegations."  
  
"There Beastman del...deleg..."  
  
"Well, if there isn't any, then you could easily be the first to represent your people! After all, you mentioned that your father is the Beast King! Where are you from, anyway?"  
  
"Beast Kingdom."  
  
"O...kay. Well, just sign these papers, Mr. Kevin, and I'll see that you get a top position. Just please don't destroy anything." 


	2. Duran

sniffle A REVIEW! hugs .: Shade :.  
Anyway, this chapter I didn't particularily like, mostly because it feels too OOC for my liking. Still, I'm satisfied. 

* * *

Stan rubbed his forehead as Mr. Kevin left. _It's going to be a long day._ "Next!"  
  
In walked a large man. "Sit down, sit down."  
  
"I'd rather stand, thank you."  
  
An uncomfortable silence. "Okay. So...your full name?"  
  
"Sir Duran of Forcena, Knight of Gold, Commander of the King's Army."  
  
"Er, I just needed your first and last name, not titles."  
  
"Um..." More uncomfortable silence. "Just Duran, I guess."  
  
"Okay then, Duran...hey, wait a minute, did you say you're a commander?"  
  
"Damn well I did."  
  
"Then why are you here for a job?"  
  
"Well with the entire world at peace there's not much to do with an army, now is there?!"  
  
"ACK!" There was a smash. "Please put down your sword! How the hell did you sneak that past security?!"  
  
"I didn't! They just let me in when they saw this! Now are you going to help me get a job or NOT?"  
  
"Please calm down!"  
  
There was a grumble and a sigh as someone slid what sounded like a sharp metal object into a container. "I am calm. Now what?"  
  
"Well, first do you have any prior work experience?"  
  
"I've been in the army for as long as I can remember."  
  
"And how long is that?"  
  
"Very long."  
  
"Some years would help."  
  
"At least five?"  
  
"F...but you're only nineteen?"  
  
"Well, _yeah_."  
  
"And you're a commander?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Silence. "So I guess leadership is one of your skills, huh."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"Great. Any other skills you have that I should know about? Anything special?"  
  
"I'm a swordsman."  
  
"Um...I see." He paused, unsure.  
  
Then: "Would you like a demonstration?"  
  
"Um..." He saw the warning look in the other man's eyes. "Sure..."  
  
"Ha!" More metal. More smashing sounds, more breaking sounds, more destruction and meyhem. After about five minutes, what Kevin had left untouched was now in shreds.  
  
"Okay, Mr. Duran," said a very, very small voice. "I see. Well, I think I might have a job for you."  
  
"Oh! What is it?"  
  
"It's a fencing instructor. This particular company only needs a part-time one, so it won't interfere with your duties as the commander of the army."  
  
"That was fast."  
  
"Eh-heh...now, I'll send you details later tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Sure. Thanks, Mr..."  
  
"Just call me Stan, Sir Duran."  
  
"Right. 'Bye!"  
  
The door slammed. Something fell and crashed.  
  
And then there was a groan. "They don't pay me enough..." 


	3. Hawk

Stan spent several minutes praying as men came in to replace everything the first two men hadn't destroyed.  
  
"...and if there seriously is some sort of great omnipotent entity out there, please, _please_ end my suffering..."  
  
The door opened. "Prayers answered," was a discreetly muttered voice.  
  
"This is the place to get jobs?"  
  
"Yes, yes, sit down."  
  
"Where's the chair?"  
  
"Wha - I could _swear_ that there had been one. Oh well. Anyway, I'm Stan. And your name is..."  
  
"Hawkeye, but most go with Hawk."  
  
"Last name?"  
  
"I don't have one."  
  
An eye twitched. "Okay. Well, Mr. Hawk, how would you describe yourself to a potential employer?"  
  
"Well, hmm, lemme see..." There was some pacing around the room. "Flexible. Used to working all hours of the day."  
  
"Oh? What sort of hours did your last job give you?"  
  
"Night hours, mostly. But we were expected to be on call for day jobs."  
  
"What sort of jobs?"  
  
"...Collection agency."  
  
"Care to describe in detail?"  
  
"Er, no, not really."  
  
"Well...why did you leave your job in the first place? Government jobs are pretty secure."  
  
_Yeah, maybe in your universe._ "I didn't like the security it provided."  
  
"Care to go in-depth?"  
  
"They hold significant others hostage for demonic sacrifices and place you under mind control until they gain ultimate power for their dark lord."  
  
"...I'll put 'work tensions'..."  
  
"Good."  
  
"...I was about to ignore this question, due to my assumption that you had a government job, but now I have to question it...Do you have a criminal past?"  
  
"Why? Don't you do your own checks?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
There was a whirr and a click. Then some beeping.  
  
"Uh, Mr. Hawk...you're from Navarre, right?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Well, it says here that a 'Hawkeye of Navarre' (also running under the name of 'Hawk') is wanted for theft, armed robbery, mischief, assault, first-, second- AND third-degree murder and extortion, not to mention 'death threats to authorities'."  
  
"...Yeah, that might hurt my resume...I'm just going to go now..."  
  
The door slammed as the entrant beat a hasty retreat. Stan took a moment to look around, then blinked.  
  
"I could swear I got new furniture just ten minutes ago..." 


	4. Riesz

FIVE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL! 

* * *

"I hope the next person is used to exotic cultures." Without any viable furniture, Stan was forced to assume a somewhat-Eastern setting, with rugs instead of chairs to sit on and flat binders as low tables.  
  
The door opened. There was a low hiss of disapproval.  
  
"Er...hello."  
  
"Is there something wrong with the decor, Miss..."  
  
"Riesz."  
  
"Miss Riesz?"  
  
"No, of course not. Although I should think that you should have more money to furnish this place."  
  
"I...try..."  
  
"I'm here to get some help getting a job," the female voice said a little impatiently, tapping something on the floor.  
  
"Oh God, is that a weapon?"  
  
"YOU CAN'T TELL THAT THIS IS A WIND LANCE?"  
  
"No! I can, Miss Riesz! It's just that the last three men in here - "  
  
**"NOW YOU ARE COMPARING ME TO A MAN? YOU MISOGYNIST PIG!"**  
  
**"AIEE!"**  
  
Something was thrown, and by the loud thudding sound it made of its sharp point embedding into a thick wooden object as it tore fabric one could tell that it had been a very fierce shot.  
  
"Consider that a warning shot, you sorry example of male existence!" raged the female as she opened the door. "You so much as THINK of something as poor as that and I swear on the Amazon code that you will die several horrific deaths before the Goddess releases you from your eternal pain!"  
  
The door slammed shut. There was a weak whimpering sound.  
  
"Someone...please get me down from here...help..." 


	5. Carlie

Hmm. This one took a while, but I was working on Snippets. (Update coming to a computer near you!)  
  
Thank you all for your comments! Just one more interview to go after this...and yes, I have a good idea of just what's going to happen... 

* * *

The door opened and slammed. Silence.  
  
"Um, mister jobbie person? Why's you hanging from the wall?"  
  
More silence. Then: "Ah, aren't you a little young to be getting a job?"  
  
"Carlie not young! Carlie is a whole fifteen years old!"  
  
"Right...uh...just help me down, please?"  
  
Stepping sounds, a yelp, then a loud rip.  
  
"Thanks. Would you like to sit down?"  
  
"Carlie don't see a chair."  
  
"Good point. Uh, pick a cushion."  
  
Floomph. "This is cushy-cushy!"  
  
"Uh, yeah. So, your name is..."  
  
"Carlie!"  
  
"Last name?"  
  
"Um...Carlie don't have a last name."  
  
Stan blinked. Then he caught on. "Where are you from?"  
  
"Holy City Wendel!"  
  
"Ah." Scribble scribble. "And do your parents know that you're trying to get a job, Carlie?"  
  
"No," said the sad girl. "Carlie's parents went away when Carlie was a little baby."  
  
"Oh." Uncomfortable silence. "So who looks after you?"  
  
"Carlie's grandpa, an' Heath!"  
  
"Do they know that you're trying to get a job?"  
  
"Nope. Grandpa says that the temple needs more money, but when Carlie tried to get a jobbie Heath said no, Carlie's too little."  
  
"Well, um, see, we're not allowed to hire, uh, people like you, Carlie."  
  
"Huh?" The girl was naturally confused. "But Carlie works hard! She worked at the temple!"  
  
"Miss Carlie, it's called 'child labour', and I don't think you're old enough to work - "  
  
**"CARLIE'S NOT A CHILD!"**  
  
**"AIEE!"**  
  
Thud. Thunka-thunka-thud. More thuds. All accompanied by appropriate screaming, yelling and pleading.  
  
The little girl eventually left, leaving the office wrecked.  
  
The man crawled over to one of the few devices that hadn't been mauled - his phone. He picked up the receiver and pressed a button.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Lana, how many more to go?"  
  
"Just one more, sir. A nineteen-year-old girl."  
  
"WHAT?!" a second voice screeched through the phone.  
  
"Uh, nineteen-year-old lady."  
  
"THANK YOU!"  
  
Stan said, "Send her in," then rubbed his face. Just one more, and he'd be free... 


	6. Angela

*must...force...self...to write...* 

* * *

The door opened. Silence.  
  
And then, "ARE YOU STARING AT MY BOOBS?!"  
  
"Uh, no!" stammered out Stan.  
  
"Oh. I've always considered them to be a strange asset..."  
  
"Must not...make...juvenile comment..."  
  
"Well, am I here for help finding a job or not?"  
  
"Er, yes, yes!" Nervous coughing. "So, um, name?"  
  
"Princess Angela of Altena."  
  
"Ah...Altena? Where exactly is that?"  
  
"Sub-Zero Snowlands. In the north. Surrounded by mountains, snow and all that other cold stuff."  
  
"But...wait, so if it's so cold...how do you stand it?"  
  
"You better damn well adjust, or we haul your butt out to the wolves."  
  
"O...kay..." Some paper shuffling. "Do you have any, uh, strengths?"  
  
Automatically Stan knew it was the very, very wrong thing to say.  
  
"Was that a double entendre?"  
  
"NO! I just wanted to know if you had any strengths! You know, skills, or, uh, experience, or...crap - "  
  
"ARE YOU TAKING ME TO BE SOME COMMON WHORE? TAKE THAT!"  
  
The lady's weapon - a staff with some round gem embedded in the top - smacked soundly into something solid. By the sounds coming from it, it was obvious which item had survived the collision.  
  
"Please, relax!"  
  
Only another double entendre came out of that. Angela yelled something, and the room was promptly blown apart.  
  
"Riesz was right when she called you a pig!" she shrieked at the man. "I can't STAND a man who doesn't treat a girl right! Hmph, I'll take my 'skills' elsewhere, thank you!"  
  
The remains of the door slammed as she stormed out, then disintegrated on the floor. 


End file.
